Breath of Life
by ShadowDanseur
Summary: Lynx arrives- alone - at the castle with news of the disastrous expedition into Blackveil. Is Karigan really dead, as Lynx believes? How will the kingdom prepare for the return of Mornhavon? As events unfold, our characters are greeted with many events they may not be prepared to handle, shaking them - and, more importantly, the kingdom - to their very core.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: So this is my first Green Rider story, and this idea would not leave me alone. I've reread the entire series numerous times, and I'm dying to know when the next one will be out! Since I'm sure it'll be some time before we see it, I thought maybe this could keep me (and hopefully all of you) busy for a little while. This takes place right after Blackveil. Do me a favor and let me know what you think!**_

_**Disclaimer: None of the characters and places you recognize are mine. I am not making a profit; this is purely for fun. No copyright infringement intended.**_

* * *

Behind the mask of cool indifference that he knew clouded his features, Zachary was having a hard time concentrating. His thoughts bounced from subject to subject, unwilling to remain trained on the droning voice of his new General of the Armies, General Hamer. The General was reporting on his takeover of the Armies, just as the King had instructed him to do when he'd appointed him two weeks ago. The replacement of his entire retinue of advisors had been quite the ordeal, one that he doubted he could have handled as smoothly as he did without the invaluable guidance of his friend, Laren Mapstone. The Queen, of course, had been an active member of the deliberations, and the three of them had spent many evenings discussing the merits of each individual candidate.

Estora had shown herself to be a capable and dedicated Queen; she was well suited to the post, he would not deny that. Zachary knew Laren well enough to know that his long time friend approved of the woman, and seeing them interact during those long nights had sealed his belief in their growing esteem of one another.

Despite her suitability for the position; despite Captain Mapstone's approval of her; despite all of the things that worked in her favor, Zachary could not say that he was happy. Though Estora was a sweet and caring woman, beautiful of features and character, his heart remained with another; one who added to all of Estora's charms a certain fire, an indomitable spunk and zest for life that left him in awe. Estora was his Queen, but Karigan was the wild creature that beat within his breast. She was always with him: the sound of her voice whispering in his ears when he thought no one was around, the rose of the blush that dusted her cheeks so vibrant in his memory when he closed his eyes.

The shuffle of Connly's feet to his right grabbed his attention just as General Hamer concluded his report, but Zachary didn't have time to ponder whether or not his Green Rider had purposely tried to get his attention or if it had been mere coincidence.

"The transition has gone as smoothly as possible, Sire," General Hamer told him confidently.

"Then you have no formal complaints to lodge?" Zachary queried.

"None, Sire."

"Excellent. I expect great things from you, General."

"I shall do my best not to disappoint, Your Majesty."

"I believe you."

Zachary dismissed the gathered crowd then, thankful for the end of the morning audience. Beside him, Estora shifted almost imperceptibly in her seat at the same moment Rider Connly's stomach let out a ferocious grumble. The other man tried to hide his chagrin, but Zachary just smiled and called out the order for food.

"Have you heard from Captain Mapstone, Rider Connly?" The King asked as he stood, offering Estora his arm.

"Not yet, Sire. I believe she was traveling to Corsa, and do not expect to hear from her for a few days more."

"Please tell me when you do."

"Of course, Sire."

Laren had left just as soon as their work with replacing the advisors was finished. She had requested some well deserved leave time, and he had to admit that he had been surprised to hear that she was headed for Corsa. He had wanted to ask who she was planning to visit in the coastal city but had managed to restrain himself, although he had a decent hunch that it was none other than Karigan's father.

Karigan … Karigan, who was facing only the Gods knew what in that damned forest. He could not stand to think of her there, so far from home, from her friends … from him; so far from any protection he could conceivably offer.

Why must she always be out of his reach?

They were just feet from the door, Estora on his arm and Connly keeping pace beside them, when the doors to the throne room were unceremoniously thrown open. In a flurry of movement, Zachary came up short at the same moment his Weapons materialized around his little group, encasing them in a circle of unyielding black. Zachary could hear the harried words of his herald, Neff, as he tried to argue with someone.

"I will see the King now," a rough voice ground out, "And the Captain. I do not need to be announced."

"Lynx?" Connly threw out, over the formidable circle of Weapons, "Is that you?"

"Yes."

Zachary's stomach seemed to drop all the way through the floor at the terse reply. He remembered Lynx: tall, animalistic in his brooding silence and rarely seen out of his beloved forest. More than that, he had been part of the expedition to Blackveil.

He had been with Karigan.

"Let him through," the King demanded, his voice frosty in his fear.

Like liquid shadows his Weapons disappeared just as quickly as they had come, leaving Zachary with an unobstructed view of Rider Lynx. The King took stock of his rider quickly: tense, old scratches marring his impassive face … and haunted, angry eyes that seemed to suck all the air out of the room. All at once he knew that he did not want to hear what Lynx had to tell him; he knew that his world – the whole world – was about to drop away from him. There were not many reasons for Lynx to be here alone, standing before him without Karigan; whatever the reason, Zachary felt in his bones that it was not a good one.

"You wish to speak with me, Rider Lynx?" He asked, trying to remain collected.

"Your Majesty, I have important news that must not wait."

The Rider seemed to glance quickly at Estora and then pause, as if in uncertainty. For a moment Zachary could not understand the man's hesitance, and then he remembered that he had not yet been married when the expedition left for Blackveil. He was probably waiting to see if the King would dismiss his betrothed, unaware that he stood before his new Queen, or perhaps he was suddenly caught with the realization that he had not bowed before the King; whatever reason lay behind his pause, Zachary did not care.

"Please continue, Rider."

Lynx shifted a hard gaze back to his monarch, unprepared for what was to come and determined that he would get the words out. He would give his report, as was his duty, and answer any questions, and then Lynx fully intended to lose himself in the forests once more. Solitude was what he wanted: an escape from the life of constant pain and sorrow the Green Riders seemed destined to follow. He did not want to watch anymore of his brothers and sisters to die.

Without so much as relaxing his stance, Lynx began the long narrative of their journey into Blackveil. He told of their encounters with the hummingbirds, their separation and eventual rescue of Karigan and Yates, their travel to Argenthyne. He spoke tonelessly, willing the emotion out of his voice and face, determined that he would not break down. He told of the Sleepers and their attack, of the Groundmites, and then his voice began to falter. The events of the last … how long had it been? Weeks? Months? All of it came back to him, the loss of the Eletian, Hana, the death of Grae and Solan … He did not want to remember.

"Lynx?" A soft voice prodded.

His eyes, which had wandered to the floor, snapped up and locked on to the somber and kind face of Lady Estora – Queen Estora now, by the looks of it. A long, breathless moment stretched out before him in which he saw once again the deaths of his companions, people he had come to respect and admire; all except for one: Ard. The man who had tried to assassinate Karigan. Telagioth had told them of his actions, how he had admitted to doing his bidding with the lady's blessing, and a black pit of rage opened within him. Here was his Queen, the woman his King had chosen to help him run and care for their country, and she had blessed the assassination attempt of a hero.

In an unadulterated moment of pain and rage and grief, Lynx let it all out with a lash of his tongue.

"You," He started savagely, unaware that he had begun to tremble, "You … you … she saved us! Again and again she sacrificed her life, everything she was, to keep King and country safe!"

"Lynx …" Connly began, fearing the blackness in the Rider's eyes, but the other man was lost to him.

"Karigan fought … she fought so hard, even when she was on the brink of death, she kept going … and you tried to have her assassinated!" Lynx did not move toward the stricken woman, did not care about his transgression – his voice was rising in pitch, his blood boiling in his veins with unchecked rage, and still he kept going. "You failed, my Queen," and he spit the word out of his mouth as if it were poison, "but you need not worry – Karigan will never come back, because she's dead!"

"Lynx!" Connly yelled, and the taller man jerked as if slapped.

Zachary was certain he was not breathing; he knew that any moment now he would blink and find himself collapsed on the throne room floor, propriety be damned. Then again, perhaps there would not even be a floor; after all, he did not believe in gravity. He did not believe in direction or space or time: how could any of those things exist, when Karigan did not? How could anything exist if Karigan G'ladheon did not?

"Mornhavon returned," Lynx was saying hoarsely, the animosity once again bottled, "He possessed Yates. The last I saw of Karigan, she was shattering a mask at their feet. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the Wanda Plains, Yates dying beside me. Ealdean and Telagioth I found easily; we waited. For days we waited, but no one else came."

_No one else came_. The words seemed to bounce around in Estora's head, growing in volume until she felt certain someone was screaming in her ear. Ard had indeed tried to kill Karigan – her friend. He had tried and been thwarted, only to be succeeded by Mornhavon.

"You are certain Karigan is dead?" Connly hated the way the word slid off his tongue.

"No; nor am I certain she's alive. As I said, the last time I saw her she was fighting Mornhavon. She had a broken wrist, a severely injured leg and was fighting the effects of some kind of poison. If she did survive Mornhavon's attack, and yet was transported somewhere other than the Wanda Plains – like the rest of us – then think of her situation. Poisoned, injured, possibly bleeding … and alone. What hope does she have?"

Zachary was still standing, the weight of Estora's arm that was linked in his a physical reminder that he was still a functioning human being; he could still feel, still think … could Karigan?

Somewhere in the corner of his mind, a little voice reminded him of Lynx's accusation of Estora, at the unacceptable way he had addressed his monarch and demanded that the action should not go unnoticed and unpunished. That voice was drowned out, however, by a more sinister one that repeated Lynx's words in an unbroken litany: _what hope does she have?_

Estora was speaking and for all that she stood next to him, he did not hear her words. Instead, his eyes drifted to the shadows around the throne room; the tiniest hint of movement caught his eye, and he watched silently as his Weapons materialized out of the blackness. He found Fastion, whose usual stony expression was marred only by the thin, tight line of his lips. Had he heard? Did he know that Karigan was likely lost to them forever?

"…My cousin, Lord Spane," Estora's words floated to him. "He is being held until proper punishment can be agree upon. I assure you, Rider Lynx, I wish Karigan no harm, and hope with all of my heart that your prediction of her end is false."

"I apologize for my outburst, Your Highness," Lynx replied, but his voice sounded automatic and hollow in Zachary's ears. "I do not know what came over me."

"Your Majesties, with your permission I'd like to dismiss Rider Lynx." This time Connly was addressing them, although he was looking at Zachary. "He has had a rough journey and would appreciate a rest, I'm sure."

"Of course, Connly," Zachary replied without much thought. Then, "Please stay for a few days, Rider Lynx, in case I have any more questions."

"Yes, Sire."

Zachary observed the man's bow and subsequent retreat, his mind suspiciously blank. The strain of the last few weeks seemed entirely forgotten, what mild weakness still remained from his illness unimportant; a lot of things seemed unimportant at the moment.

"She's made it out of rough situations before," Estora said quietly, more to herself than to her companions.

"The Captain swears she's made of more spunk than anyone she's ever met," Connly agreed just as softly.

The Weapons had come forward again and formed a loose circle around them. Zachary glanced at some of their faces: Fastion and Willis and Donal … all of them sported the same tense lines about their mouths and eyes, as if for once almost unable to keep their masks in place. These people counted Karigan as friend, he knew, even respected and trusted her in a way that he wasn't sure anyone but they understood.

"She is not dead."

He didn't realize the words had actually left his mouth until Connly glanced questioningly at him.

"Sire?"

"I will not believe Karigan G'ladheon is dead without proof."

"She is alone, Zachary …" Estora started.

For the first time in their marriage – in their acquaintance – Zachary lost his temper with her.

"She is alive until proven otherwise!"

Estora did not seem shocked at the heat behind his words; she merely nodded as if she had expected nothing else.

Inwardly, Zachary wanted nothing more than to fly into a mindless rage and throw things around his study – and maybe cry; outwardly, his cheek twitched as he clamped his jaws shut against the urge.

He had sent the woman he loved into the most dangerous place in all of Sacordia; he had quite possibly sent her to her death.

Why hadn't he begged her to stay?


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, review, alert and favorite this story; I love hearing from you guys. I realize that the first chapter is probably not that original (and perhaps some parts of this chapter), but I hope you stick with me. **_

_**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.**_

* * *

Karigan drifted, unaware of whether or not she slept; she thought perhaps her eyes were closed, yet she could see everything.

She saw the mirror mask again, saw the colored threads of individual lives spread out against the vast expanse of the universe; she saw the stars twinkle at her as she gazed into the depths of the mask, saw the perfect ebony of the night sky reflected back at her. She wondered what it would be like to wear that mask: what sort of terrible power did the wearer wield? What would such power cost a person?

The scene shifted and she watched herself from a distance as she raised the mask and threw it with all the force she could muster at her feet. She heard Mornhavon's angry scream and watched in slow motion as a glittering shard leapt from its brethren on the floor to imbed itself in her leg.

Karigan vaguely remembered cutting her hand on that same piece of mask, but could not feel either wound. She had been cold, she knew, and frightened and in pain, but it was more like a dark memory now. She felt none of those things.

The colors swirled and blurred, then rearranged themselves into another picture. She saw Lynx on a vast plain, leaning down to catch the last words Yates spoke before the life left his body. She saw his lips move, but heard no sound – what had he said? The death of her friend should have devastated her; she should have been torn with guilt, and although she knew it was lurking, it felt as though she were acknowledging it from a great distance.

Again and again the scenes changed. Although she recognized some of the events – the incident with the mask, for example, had happened in the past – there were many more scenes that she did not. Was she seeing the future? Were these things happening, or what would happen? More importantly, why was she seeing them?

"Kari?"

The voice was soft and unfamiliar, yet she felt a strange stirring in her breast at the sound. She had no reason to respond, and yet the thump of her heart quickened immediately when she heard her name.

She saw herself in a room with stone walls – the castle? – seated at a large desk. Next to the projection of her, little legs swinging over the edge, a small blonde boy with almond shaped eyes watched her intently.

"Hmm?" She hummed in response.

"Can I call you mother?"

Karigan – the version of herself seated at the desk, the dream version – stopped writing and laid her pencil down slowly to fix the boy with a serious expression.

Before she could hear the answer the colors changed again, but she barely had time to register an objection before she was greeted with a new sight of not one, but two small boys. One she recognized as the blonde boy from the previous dream; the other looked younger and only slightly different, his hair a rich brown and his eyes – although almond shaped – a pale blue.

"So this is where you boys ran off to." She watched herself walk down a hallway to where the two boys sat playing with wooden swords. "Where did you get those?"

"Father," The younger boy replied, grinning at his brother.

"He said we could learn how to fight with real swords when we were older!" The blonde boy gushed.

"And so you can, but for now how about some dinner?"

The two boys grinned excitedly and reached simultaneously for one of her hands. She smiled lovingly at them and turned to lead them back the way she had come.

"Come along, Moonlings. Your father is waiting."

An unexpected light exploded outward, blinding her with its sudden intrusion; color and sound evaporated. Karigan could no longer see, but she knew that she was falling. The bubble that seemed to have enveloped her dissipated; all at once she was aware of her injuries again, aware of the cold stone under and around her, aware of the grief and pain that threatened to drown her.

Trapped, frightened and overwhelmed, Karigan began screaming.

* * *

Zachary wandered. The castle was quiet, most of its occupants safely repining in their beds; the clock bells had pealed out second hour only some moments before. The King carried no torch to light his way, preferring instead to allow himself to be swallowed into the darkness of the night. He felt more than heard Fastion's presence behind him and was thankful that only one Weapon accompanied him on his nightly meanderings.

Three days. Three days had passed since Lynx had arrived and given him the terrible news; three days in which he did not remember much of anything except the ache in his chest that refused to abate. He did not remember sleeping more than two hours in a single stretch since Lynx's report.

Three days in which he had despaired of ever seeing Karigan again.

Zachary squeezed the book he clasped in one hand, unsure if he wanted to open it again and unable to resist. Lynx had delivered Yates' journal to him the day after his arrival, and the King had poured over it exhaustively. He had gazed with horror at the drawings of deadly hummingbirds, the horror changing to sorrow as he took in the face of Hana, the Eletian healer that had been the first of their losses. He had already read the journal front to back more times than he could count, and yet he always found himself drawn to one of the last pages: Yates had drawn a perfect image of Karigan, eyes closed in slumber and the barest hint of a smile pulling at her lips. Every time Zachary gazed at the image, rendered in such careful and exact detail, he sent up another heartfelt thank you to Yates' spirit.

He started walking again. There was no path for his feet to follow, no thought to where he was going; he had taken up the aimless journey on that first night when sleep proved elusive. Each night he would slip from his apartments, Fastion an almost non-existent shadow behind him, and glide on silent feet through the sleeping castle. During the day he would be King; during the day he would pretend to be whole and place the needs of his kingdom over his own, just as he always had. Only under the cover of darkness could he allow his mask to fall away and be nothing more than a man desperate to believe that his love would return to him.

Zachary was torn from his thoughts by the sudden appearance of a cat, his white fur almost glowing as he sauntered down the deserted hallway. Curious – Zachary had never seen a cat in the castle before – he followed the animal at a discreet distance. The feline seemed to know exactly where he was going, navigating the corners without so much as a pause.

The ghostly feline slipped through a door on his left and Zachary followed automatically, forgetting in his single minded pursuit that he was quite possibly barging into someone's personal quarters.

The cat blinked wide eyes at him from the place it had taken up on the empty bed across the room. Zachary pulled up short just inside the doorway, his stomach flopping wildly. He knew that smell: horses and pine and the faintest undercurrent of something floral. The room smelled almost exactly like Karigan.

He took in the large old wardrobe standing against one wall, unassuming despite its superior craftsmanship; a small writing desk took up space on the opposite wall, a few loose papers hastily thrown into a pile and stacked on one corner. The space still felt lived in despite the absence of its occupant, and the King felt himself drawn in. He had never been in Karigan's room, although he'd often tried to come up with a reasonable excuse to seek her out there. He had always wanted to know what sort of treasures his Rider kept closest to her.

He glanced at her bed but moved instead toward the desk, pulling the chair out as quietly as he could and then lowering himself into it. He could almost hear Karigan chastising him for invading his privacy and would have smiled, if the thought had not brought to mind a more serious one.

Estora had been discussing that day's public audience with him earlier, and he supposed he must have stopped paying attention at some point because one moment she was talking about how best to handle the news of Mornhavon's return and the next she was shocking him back into awareness.

"You called her name." Estora's voice had been soft, calm even, but he thought he had detected a tinge of hurt behind the words.

"My Lady?" He'd questioned.

Estora had fixed him with a steady gaze and seemed to collect herself before continuing. "During out consummation. You called her name."

Zachary had felt the color drain from his face immediately. Although she was not reprimanding him and her expression held no trace of anger, he had been mortified. There was no need to ask whom she meant: of the very few things that he could remember from that act, the vision of Karigan above him was the clearest. He had treasured that image even after he woke, but never had he imagined that he had done such a thing. Whatever Estora's feelings for him may be, he knew that she must have felt at least some hurt; it was possible that she still did.

He had flushed in embarrassment and started to apologize, but Estora had given a small shake of her head and stopped him.

"I do not deny that I was … surprised, and even a little hurt. I do not expect you to love me, Zachary; ours is a marriage of political convenience, and I understand that. I do hope, however, that there can be some affection found between us, in time."

"I would understand if you were very angry with me, Estora." It was the first time he'd ever called her by her given name, no titles attached, and she had seemed surprised to hear it.

"There is nothing to be angry about. Now, if you'll excuse me." She had swept gracefully to her feet and padded to the door, only to stop a few feet from it. "Zachary?"

"Estora?"

"No matter what people may think, I do hope Karigan returns."

The Queen had left him then.

Alone in Karigan's room, Zachary allowed himself to heave a quiet sigh. One of his first thoughts upon waking from his injury and discovering the events that had transpired was how Karigan would react when she heard the news. Would she feel betrayed?

Then, when Estora had told him of his slip up, he'd wanted to scream. No matter which way he turned, someone was going to be hurt and angry. He would not deny that his first thoughts were always of Karigan and that she had his whole heart, but Estora was a good woman who did not deserve to always be second best. He did not want to betray or injure either woman, and yet it seemed inevitable.

The cat yawned and tilted its head, watching him in what could almost be called consternation.

"I don't suppose you have any answers for me?" Zachary whispered.

As if in answer the animal leapt off the bed and crossed the room in a few quick strides, catching the King by surprise. He expected the cat to disappear out the door behind him, but instead felt his surprise double when the animal strolled over to the desk and stretched out a paw to swat at the knob on the desk drawer.

"You are the strangest cat I have ever met," Zachary muttered. "I could almost swear you understand me."

One white ear flicked back as if listening; the cat sized him up, swatted at the knob one more time and then sauntered off into the shadows.

Zachary gazed at the offending drawer for the span of a few breaths, unsure of what to do. The idea that a cat had not only understood him but found a way to answer his question seemed ridiculous; and yet, ignoring what he could only interpret as a hint seemed … impossible.

Knowing that Karigan would surely beat him senseless if she ever found it, he slid the drawer open with bated breath.

A small stack of crisply folded papers stared up at him. He could make out Karigan's familiar handwriting on the top one, but without a light to read by he could not read it.

"Fastion."

His Weapon materialized at his side without a sound.

"I need a candle."

Fastion disappeared; Zachary pulled the stack of papers almost reverently from their resting spot in the drawer and placed them on the top of Karigan's desk, just a few inches away from where he had placed Yates' journal.

Somewhere near his left elbow a small cloud of yellow light coalesced into being; Fastion slid the candle carefully on the edge of the desk.

"Karigan would not approve, Sire," His Weapon said softly.

"If she returns, Fastion, I will gladly withstand the heat of her anger."

The first paper – letter – was addressed to her father; he tried to ignore the sense of disappointment that swelled in his breast. The second was addressed to Captain Mapstone; the third was addressed simply to her fellow riders.

Zachary held his breath: what would he do if he did not find a letter addressed to him? What would he do if he did?

There, on the very last letter of the pile, he found his name. The disappointment he felt quickly gave way to trepidation and a heady sense of excitement. Without a second thought, he broke the wax imprint and raked his eyes over the only letter Karigan had ever written him.

_Zachary,_

_I have learned many things about myself these last few years, the most important of which is that I am no hero. I am, in fact, a coward. Everything I do seems to be motivated by fear: the fear of Mornhavon's return, the fear of losing another friend, but mostly the fear of what would happen to those I love if I fail. _

_Do you remember that night on the roof – the night you told me you loved me? It was fear that made me run, that always makes me run - especially from you. I feared – I still fear – what would happen if I ever found the courage to tell you that I love you, too. Many times I have tried to change this; there is no hope for a King and the daughter of a common merchant, no matter how much they may love each other. Surely you must know that as well as I. I love the kingdom too much to see it thrown into turmoil over someone as cowardly and insignificant as myself. I only find the courage to tell you this now, when I know the odds of my return are nearly impossible and the information can no longer jeopardize the stability of, well … everything. In many ways, I do not regret this expedition; Estora will be a wonderful Queen, but I cannot bring myself to remain in your presence knowing that another barrier stands between us. _

_If you are reading this letter, then I did not return from Blackveil. Please know that I entered Blackveil willingly, and did everything in my power to ensure Sacordia's safety; I fought with my very last breath. _

_I am sorry that even up until the last, I could not find the courage to tell you any of this in person._

_Serving as your Green Rider has been honor._

_ Karigan_

* * *

__Karigan had stopped screaming.

She was suffocating; she could feel it in the burn of her lungs every time she tried to take a breath. She tried to regulate her heartbeat, to remain calm and focus on drawing in as much oxygen as the stone surrounding her would allow, but it was all to no avail. After all that she had been through, all of the scrapes that she had somehow gotten herself out of, she was about to find her end. She had never imagined her death, but she had never expected to go so … mundanely.

The sensation of light dusting her eyelids made her open her eyes for the last time; a shape, vaguely human and yet distorted, reached for her in a cloud of gray light. The Birdman had finally come for her, come to take her out her stone prison.

"Westrion …"


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: Hi guys! First I wanna say thank you to everyone that has given this story a chance - I hope you guys are enjoying it! I look forward to hearing your thoughts, as always. Can I get a high five for quick updating? Also, to thylacine67 - thank you for pointing out those errors! I'm about to go back and fix them ... I do not have a beta, so any and all errors are mine (and I'm sure you'll spot more at some point). Anyway, thank you everyone who has read, review and favorited! This chapter is a little shorter, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. :)**_

* * *

Fastion was not certain what he thought of his King's breach of Rider G'ladheon's privacy, but he could not say with certainty that he would not do the same if he found himself in such a situation. Although he had stood a discreet distance away from where his liege had sat reading the letter, the expressions that crossed Zachary's face were as legible to Fastion as he knew the words were to the other man; he had not seen such rapid and constant fluctuations of mood from anyone in so long that he had almost missed some of them: shock, joy, sorrow … and, of course, fear. Whatever Karigan had written in that letter, there was no denying that it had exacted a profound effect on Zachary.

Now, at just after six hour and officially off duty for the morning, Fastion looked forward to getting reacquainted with his bed. The King had spent the remainder of the early morning hours sequestered in Karigan's bedroom, alternating between rereading her letter and Yates' journal; only when Fastion had pointed out the lightening of the sky and the questions that would arise if he was found in a Rider's bedroom in his night robe did Zachary consent to returning to his chamber. The King had replaced the stack of unread letters in the drawer where he had found them, slipped the one addressed to him inside the journal and tiptoed from the room with a silence that even Fastion could be proud of.

The sound of someone running set him assaulted his ears then, putting him on his guard immediately. Someone running within the castle walls was never a good sign; he turned to see who was in such a rush and where they were going, mentally preparing himself to take down as many details as he could.

"Fastion!"

The sound of his name surprised him as much as the revelation that the runner was, in fact, another Weapon. Fastion's mind instantly turned to the King's safety; he had not left the King's chambers more than ten minutes ago – what had happened in those minutes?

"You must come quickly!"

"The King?" He queried shortly.

The woman shook her head. "You are needed in the tombs; Brienne awaits you and urges to make haste!"

The tombs? Surely they could not be under attack again! Decorum was thrown to the wind as Fastion propelled himself down the hallway, the Weapon who had played messenger hot on his heels.

He disappeared into a darkened hallway, his feet carrying him down an invisible but well-known trail. As new as she was, the female Weapon began to fall behind, unfamiliar with the passageways of the castle; Fastion did not stop to guide her.

"Brienne?" He called out softly as he approached the entrance to the tombs, knowing that she would hear him.

His friend and fellow Weapon peeled away from the shadows and Fastion received his second shock of the morning: in her arms, pale as a ghost covered in blood of varying degrees of freshness, was Karigan.

In the single breath that he hesitated, the Green Rider took her last, and was still.

* * *

Estora was slowly coming to recognize the Weapons that always seemed to surround her and Zachary, but had to admit that she still could not put a name with most of their faces. The man stepping briskly toward them now, however, she thought she could be confident in calling Donal.

Next to her, Zachary had noticed the other man's approach and held up a hand to stall the new castellan that had come to the King's study and requested a private audience.

"Forgive the interruption, Your Highness," Donal murmured, "but Rider G'ladheon has been found."

Estora's surprise was mirrored on her husband's face.

"Where?" He asked tersely.

"Here, Sire. Weapon Quinn found her in the tombs and immediately sent for help."

"Is she alive?"

"I do not know, Sire."

Estora could not make heads or tails of how she felt; there were so many thoughts and emotions tumbling around within her that it was nothing more than a tangled mess of uncertainty. She was relieved, yes, and happy – but she thought she could also detect a shadow of regret. She had meant what she told Zachary: Karigan was her friend, and she truly did hope for her safe return. There was only one part - one tiny, hidden part - of her that was just reasonable enough to admit that at least one obstacle would have been removed from her life if the Green Rider did not, in fact, return: Zachary would not be torn between a marriage of political convenience and the woman he loved.

Was she a horrible person? She sincerely hoped not.

"Take me to her."

* * *

Fastion blew another great breath into still lungs and began pumping again. His hands dwarfed Karigan's torso as he tried to restart her heart, and he was careful not to crush her ribcage beneath his weight. Brienne, who had placed Karigan on the ground and now knelt across from him, began to shake her head.

"We are too late," she told him somberly.

Fastion ignored her and covered the Rider's icy lips with his own, pushing another huff of air into her mouth. Failure – death – was not an option; not for her; not like this and not yet.

He knew the moment he had pressed too hard; there was the slightest give beneath his hand and he ripped it away before he could break the bone entirely. At the same moment, a weak breath rattled within the Rider's chest, drawn in without any help from him.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Karigan felt no heavier than a child as Fastion swept her off the floor and traveled as quickly down the hallway as he dared, headed for every short cut to the mending wing he could remember. Every few seconds he glanced down to make sure that Karigan was still breathing and then doubled his speed, as close to desperate as he had ever been for someone's welfare outside his King.

As if on cue, the King himself turned the corner in front of him, Donal just ahead of him. For the first time in his life, Fastion did not so much as slow down or glance at the other man; he blew right past the other two people and hoped that Zachary would understand his urgency.

Zachary was hollering for the Master Mender the moment the mending wing came into view, drawing several startled glances and initiating a flurry of movement. Fastion found the first available room and lowered the Rider carefully onto the bed; behind him, he could hear the King dispatching Donal to track down Ben, the Green Rider with a healing gift.

Zachary moved to Karigan's side and took one nearly frozen hand in his own, taking her in. She was pale and cold as death, a great shard of what looked to be glass embedded in one leg. Her chestnut hair had started to escape the braid that draped the pillow, and his gaze was drawn to a large white feather that had been tucked in the strands, a thin splash of old blood the color of rust marring the otherwise perfect expanse.

"Five hells, Karigan," He whispered, "What happened to you?"

"Westrion …"

The word was faint, more an exhalation of air than of actual sound, but he heard it.

"Karigan?" Zachary prodded.

"Ben and the Master Mender are here, Your Highness," Donal said then.

Zachary released Karigan's hand and stepped away from the bed to allow the healers access; Fastion did what came natural to him and tucked himself into a corner. Ben, who was surprisingly young, blanched at the sight of his fellow Rider; the expression was not lost on those in the room.

"Where was she found?" Master Mender Dray asked.

"In the tombs," Fastion answered evenly, "Agemon heard her screaming and called for Weapon Quinn; they found her in an empty sarcophagus."

"She must have been there some time," the healer muttered to himself, "her knuckles are beat bloody. Is that part of a mirror in her leg? How in the Five Hells … Ben!"

"Here, sir," the young man answered, moving closer to Karigan's side.

Dray looked the young Rider up and down and then shook his head. "Never mind, you are not big enough. Fetch some hot water and bandages, as well as the willow bark draught."

Only when he was certain that Ben had scurried away on his errand did Dray turn his gaze to the others in the room. "Sire, you will need to restrain her arms. Weapon …"

"Is that really necessary?" Zachary interrupted.

"The glass in her leg must come out. Weapon Fastion, you will restrain her legs."

Both men moved toward their appointed positions.

Karigan's skin was like ice beneath Zachary's hands; exactly how long had she been in the tombs? He could recall the few times Karigan had been found last year after her brooch had pulled her through time, and each time he knew she had returned to them nearly frozen. She was quite possibly even colder now than she had been any of those times, and he had to drive away the thought of Karigan screaming and beating at stone walls until her hands were raw.

Ben returned with a pitcher of still steaming water and a roll of clean bandages, setting them hastily on the worktable Dray had pulled to his side.

"Prepare yourselves," Dray told them.

Zachary pinned Karigan's arms to her sides with his own, leaning some of his weight against her small frame in anticipation. The angle he had taken up did not allow him to see Fastion, but he knew the other man was doing much the same.

Dray grasped the mirror shard firmly in both hands, took a steadying breath, and pulled.

Karigan's eyes snapped open at the same moment she started screaming.

"Stop!" she begged, half screaming and half crying, "Please, stop!"

"Karigan," Zachary called, trying to keep his tone soothing, "look at me, Karigan."

She gave no indication that she heard him, her whole body straining to free itself of his hold. He did not want to hurt her but could not let her go; he exerted only enough force to keep her down as her chest strained against his in an effort to sit up.

"I have it," Dray said calmly, "We must move quickly, Ben; the wound shows early signs of festering."

Zachary only heard part of what was being said. Karigan sagged against the coverlet on the bed, her eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. He took the risk of moving one hand up to cup her cheek and turn her face to his as he repeated her name, searching for any kind of acknowledgement. The action gave him something to focus on other than the blind terror that had engulfed his heart from the moment Fastion had ran past him with Karigan in his arms.

"Come on, Kari," He said softly, wiping a loose strand of hair from her forehead, "look at me."

Wide blue eyes fixed on his face and blinked once, then twice. "He must not touch the mask."

"What mask?" he prodded, "there is no mask, Karigan."

"I smashed it. Oh, Yates." She moaned the last and started to cry. "I tried to save them … I tried so hard …"

"I know you did," he assured her.

She muttered something unintelligible and then closed her eyes and turned her face away; within seconds she was silent again.

"Step back, Sire," Dray said firmly, "Let young Ben begin his work."

Zachary had to peel himself away from her side. He faced the other occupants in the room with square shoulders, ready to meet their censure of the intimate way he had behaved with a common Rider, but was met with none. He doubted that Fastion or Donal would have said anything, but Dray either had not noticed or had wisely chosen not to let on that he had seen anything out of the ordinary.

"Everyone out now," the Master Mender said then, "Ben needs to work, and Rider G'ladheon needs rest."

"Fastion, you are to make your way straight to your bed," Zachary commanded as his Weapons followed him out the door, "I'm afraid you are asleep on your feet. Donal, you are to remain posted outside this door until I tell you otherwise; no one is allowed inside this room unless it is a healer or myself. And I want word as soon as she is awake, understood?"

"Yes, Sire."

Zachary squared his jaw. Appearances and propriety be damned; he was not taking any more chances with Karigan's life.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note: I'm so excited! Things are starting to heat up, kiddos! I hope you're as excited as I am. Anyway, thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favorited/alerted this story - I hope you enjoy this next installment. Any mistakes are mine, as usual, and I hope to hear what you thought of this chapter!**_

* * *

"What do you mean, 'not allowed'?" Mara demanded.

"My apologies, Rider Brennyn, but the King has ordered that no one be allowed to enter," Donal answered mildly. "Rider G'ladheon's room is off limits to all but the menders and the King himself."

"He can't just keep her locked away!" Mara sputtered in frustration. "I mean, he can, since he's the King and all, but … it's just … surely … oh, Hells!"

Word had reached the Rider wing yesterday that Karigan had been found and was currently in the Mending wing recovering from injuries sustained in Blackveil; Mara had been closely followed by Connly as they practically stormed the Mending wing and demanded to see her, only to be resolutely denied entrance. They had demanded to see Ben but were told that he remained secluded in Karigan's room, working to heal her injuries. Connly had talked Mara into leaving without much of a fight, pointing out that Karigan would undoubtedly be sleeping and needed all the rest she could get. Mara had resolved to try again as soon as her duties would permit.

Her duties being what they were, Mara had only found the time to make her way back to the Mending wing later the next evening; now, she stood in front of a stoic Donal once more and tried not to light the whole wing on fire in her frustration.

"Where is Ben?" She demanded again, switching tactics.

"He left Rider G'ladheon's room some hours ago and has not yet returned," was the toneless answer.

"I insist on seeing Karigan, Weapon, and I will not leave until I have done so!"

"You have a long night ahead of you, Rider Brennyn."

Mara fixed her best glare on the very formidable man standing in front of her, and for a brief moment she thought she detected the beginnings of a smile. The moment was gone quickly, however, leaving her staring daggers into a visage that may as well have been carved from stone.

"This is ridiculous!" Mara nearly yelled, throwing her hands up in defeat. "I have half a mind to march right up to King Zachary and tell him …"

"No need to march anywhere, Rider Brennyn," a smooth voice intoned behind her, "for I am here. Now what is it you would like to tell me?"

Mara had the good sense to blush all the way to the roots of her wildly bouncy curls and immediately dropped into a curtsy. When she rose and finally managed to lift her eyes, she felt relieved to see that the King's gaze seemed more amused than affronted. Truly, she must learn to control her temper; Captain Mapstone had warned her repeatedly that it would get her in big trouble someday soon.

"Forgive me, Your Highness, I am frustrated and let my temper fuel my words."

"I understand, Rider Brennyn. I appreciate that Rider G'ladheon is a friend – and fellow messenger – and that it is only natural for you to wish to see her. I admit, I placed Donal here for exactly this reason; your friend was found in grave condition, and I do not wish her to be disturbed until the menders are certain that she is no longer in danger."

Karigan had been found in grave condition? Mara did not like the sound of that; very few details had been given to them concerning the manner of Karigan's discovery in the castle or how she had arrived, and Connly had been unable to find any answers despite having spent most of the previous evening asking questions. How grave must her condition to be to necessitate one of the King's personal Weapons posted outside her door?

"I have come to check on Rider G'ladheon's condition, Rider Brennyn, and promise to send a runner straight to Rider Connly when I have been apprised of her condition. I am afraid, however, that Donal here must continue to deny you entry – no matter how fierce your temper."

Zachary smiled at her to take any sting that she may have perceived out of his words.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

Mara waited for the King to nod at her in dismissal and begin to step away from her before turning her back on Karigan's door and making her way down the hall. She would seek out Connly and let him know of the King's assurance to keep them informed, and recommend that he should send a message to the Captain in Corsa if he hadn't already done so. Captain Mapstone would want to know of the events of the expedition whether she was on leave or not.

Mara resigned to get some dinner and track down Lynx to see if he knew of Karigan's discovery, or what possible injuries she may have had; if she did not hear that Connly had received a message any later than tomorrow morning, then she was determined to plant herself in front of Donal and stay there until she was either allowed into that room, or Karigan came out.

* * *

The creatures of Blackveil pressed in around her in a mass of undulating bodies that twined in and out of each other like a giant serpent. The sound was almost worst than the sight: over the constant hum of hummingbirds and _click-clack_ of giant crabs, she could make out the voices of Grae and Hana and Yates as they tried to yell instructions to one another over the din.

Karigan stopped walking and slammed her eyes shut, throwing her hands over her ears to drown out the sounds. The terrible cacophony grew in response and she did not doubt that she was just about to feel herself ripped to shreds when a soft pressure on her shoulder made her eyes spring open.

Yates stood before her, a twisted grin on his face and an odd light in his eyes. He bowed to her just as he always had, but there was something grotesque about the way his body twisted, as if his torso wasn't really connected to his waist. She opened her mouth to scream but the sound was choked in blood; she pulled her hands away from her ears and held them in front of her face only to discover that one was so badly broken it was nearly turned around, the palm facing up, and the other split open to the bone and leaving trails of blood to runnel down her face.

"How does it feel, Karigan, to know that you kept me alive all that time, only to lose me to Alessandros?"

Yates mouth opened unnaturally wide, revealing row upon row of pinpoint sharp teeth, and then he lunged for her. The scream finally tore from her throat and she took off running as fast as her injured leg would carry her. Her blood pulsed in her ears, the rhythm soon joined by the raggedness of her breathing as she tore through the trees. The venom in her leg was spreading throughout her body with every step she took: she could feel it like a current of the hottest water imaginable as it traveled through her blood stream.

The trees broke and the wall stretched out before her, a neutral gray in the unsteady colors of her world. She tried to push harder, knowing that the wall meant safety; the wall meant home.

A tumbler sprang in front of her and before she could blink she found herself on her back in the grass, her lungs struggling for air. The ghostly sound of laughter rang in her ears, and yet she knew that there was no laughter to be heard; when she finally managed to push herself into a sitting position, the tumbler stood perfectly poised on one leg in front of her, blocking her path to the wall. He was wearing the mirror mask.

The head tilted to the side, almost like a bird, and then with an audible clap that came from nowhere she was back at the costume ball, bodies swirling around her in a nauseating blur of colors.

"I destroyed that mask," she whispered. "I smashed it at my feet."

The tumbler straightened his head and the mask transformed into the green one. "You must choose a mask, Karigan," Captain Mapstone's voice told her from unmoving lips.

"I do not wear masks."

"Of course you do." Estora sounded colder, harsher, and when the tumbler reached up to pull the mask from its face Karigan found herself looking once more at her friend who was no longer a friend. Estora was just as beautiful as she remembered, but there was a hardness to her gaze that told Karigan she was not among friends. "We all wear masks, Karigan, it's how we play the game."

"I am not playing a game!" Karigan insisted.

"What if I told you that one of these masks could give you everything your heart desires?"

Estora swept one smooth hand through the air beside her and Karigan found herself looking into a pair of almond shaped eyes that warmed her instantly. Zachary was watching her intently, so close she could smell him. "Please come home to me, Kari," he told her softly. "I need you here with me."

Karigan began to cry.

"Zachary …"

"I'm here, Karigan."

"Zachary, I'm so sorry."

Karigan pushed herself to her feet, every movement sending bolts of fire and blinding pain through her body. She clenched her jaw and pushed harder, the salt of her tears leaving tracks through the dried blood on her cheek.

She took one step forward; in front of her, Estora pulled a beautiful hunting knife from her sleeve and sneered at her, the expression turning her once friendly visage into a nightmare.

"He will never be yours, Messenger!" the Lady screamed.

Karigan automatically threw up a hand to defend herself, but the blow never came. Estora and the masked dancers around them were frozen in place; she looked from one dancer to the next, her horror multiplying as she realized that their ranks consisted of the people she knew and loved, both dead and alive.

"C'mon, Kari," a little voice urged.

Karigan drew her gaze away from the horrible scene in front of her and found herself looking into the upturned faces of two little boys, the smallest of whom had wrapped one small hand around the last three fingers of her hand.

"'Tum on." This was accompanied by a tug on her fingers.

Stunned, Karigan let herself be led through the crowd of dancers, her eyes not leaving the forms of the little boys in front of her. She recognized them and the familiar way her heart seemed to expand in their presence, the fierce protectiveness that seemed to leap out of her and envelop their tiny frames. She expected to see little wooden swords strapped to their sides, but was prevented from looking by a vast darkness opening up before her.

When she looked, Karigan immediately recognized the graceful hulk of Salvistar waiting for her. She was about to groan when the light around the ebony steed began to shift and swirl; a warm gust of air swept around her, pulling her hair up around her shoulders. She had the impression of great arms reaching toward her and the soft twinkle of stars, and then all the pain and fire left her body in a rush. She felt no pressure and yet knew that she was being embraced; her skin tingled with the warmth and perfection of it.

"Westrion," She murmured, the horrors of Blackveil fading from her mind.

For the first time since becoming a Green Rider, Karigan knew no fear, or uncertainty or strain; for the first time in her life, she did not think about the people she loved.

"Take me home."

Where was home?

* * *

Zachary paced; in the bed next to him, Karigan continued to mumble unintelligible words from her place beneath the blankets. He thought he had recognized something about masks, and it made sense when he recalled how she had spoken about a mask in those brief seconds of consciousness he had witnessed the other day. But what mask could she be talking about? More importantly, why hadn't she woken up yet? He had spoken with Ben earlier and the young mender had assured the King that he had done what he could for her injuries. The list that he had rattled off – at the King's insistence – nearly made Zachary nauseous: beside the obvious piece of glass embedded in her thigh and the open slice in her hand, she had come to them with a broken wrist and the remnants of a foreign poison in her system. Someone, maybe Karigan herself, had been possessed of the good sense to splint the wrist with a pair of finely crafted arrows that no one doubted were Eletian; the poison, although Ben had assessed the majority of it to have already left her system, still raged with enough fervor in her veins to bring on fever.

Ben had worked through the night and exhausted both himself and his talent in his efforts to repair the damage to Karigan's body. The Rider had made sure the King understood that he could do nothing to remove or lessen whatever trauma her mental and emotional faculties had withstood during her time in Blackveil, and that there was no way insure that Karigan came back to them at all.

At least as terrifying as the idea that Karigan might not come back to him at all was the fear of what kind of condition she would be in if she did. What had happened to his courageous Rider? What had she been made to suffer … at his decree?

"Westrion."

The word brought him around quickly. The King perched carefully on the edge of Karigan's bed, his stomach icing over in fear. This was not the first time he had heard Karigan utter the Birdman's name, or the first time the thought had occurred to him that it sounded almost like a familiar greeting between friends.

"Karigan?" he said softly.

She sighed and turned her face toward him but remained unresponsive.

"Karigan," he tried again, his voice nearly a whisper in his earnestness, "Come back."

She seemed to hear him without knowing that she did, or who was addressing her.

"So tired," she answered, "So much pain. Take me home."

"No," Zachary said forcefully, his heart leaping into his throat. Where was home? "Karigan, you must come back. Do you hear me?"

He couldn't resist cupping her cheek – still warm and flushed from the fever – in one calloused hand, the feel of her skin against his grounding him. He went one step further and placed a kiss on her forehead, praying that he wasn't about to lose his chance of one day receiving a kiss, freely given, from her lips.

"Please, Kari; please come back to me."

His heart felt like stone in his chest. He sent up about one hundred prayers and promises to Westrion simultaneously, in the span of a few seconds: he begged the Birdman not to take her from him, to keep her soul tethered to her body and send her back to those who needed her more than the God ever could. The King promised to do anything and everything the Birdman asked of him, if only he would not keep Karigan for himself. All of this he did in the span of a breath, his eyes closed just as he used to do when he was a boy and would wish on stars.

"Zachary?"

His name … that voice … he opened his eyes and found himself staring into familiar, fever bright blue ones.

"You're alive." His voice was gravelly and deep with the strain of holding in a sob. "You came back to me."

In the shock of hearing her voice and seeing those intelligent blue eyes staring back at him, Zachary did not grasp the slight movement that was the lifting of her body to meet his. In the space of just a moment Karigan's warm lips had come to press against his; in the confusion, his heart took advantage of the way his mind faltered and kissed her back.

The moment felt as if it was stolen from a dream. He knew the exultation and pleasure of finally kissing the lips he had spent the last few years dreaming about; he knew the quickness with which his own desire could be ignited by such a chaste act, and the ease and completeness with which he could give himself to her. Even as she pulled her silky lips from his, he wanted to pull her against him and kiss her into oblivion. His hands demanded to hold her, to press her lithe form against him and lower their bodies to the bed and make sure she never left his side again. The kiss had been too short, the contact not nearly enough to sate him; he felt as though he had been singed by an ethereal fire.

Reeling with the suddenness and shock of the last few seconds, his brain setting off warning bells even as the rest of him demanded their complete surrender to each other, Zachary almost missed her next words.

"I always come back to you, Zachary. Where are the boys?"


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note: Hi everyone, sorry for the long delay in getting this next chapter up. A lot of crazy things are happening in my life outside the internet, so I haven't been able to write anything until now. If things work out the way I want them to, however, I won't have this problem again and you guys won't have to wait so long for the next installment. Thank you for all the reviews and for everyone who has taken the time to read this story, and, as always, I look forward to reading your reviews!**_

* * *

She blinked again in rapid succession, but the double vision would not leave her. She tried to focus on Zachary's face, but was finding it difficult to choose between the two versions of it that shone very clearly back at her. One shone with a bright smile, as if welcoming her home, and the other looked strangely drawn and shocked, and more than slightly worried. Confused, Karigan glanced away from the man in front of her to the dark wraith of a man that stood behind him; she recognized Fastion immediately, but her consternation only grew when she noted that there were not two versions of the Weapon staring back at her. There was only one Fastion, dressed entirely in black and his stony expression undermined by a very real relief shining in his eyes.

"What boys, Karigan?" Zachary said very carefully from in front of her.

Her gaze returned to the King – or, rather, both versions of him. What was going on? She had never experienced such double vision before, at least not until Laurelyn …

Not until Laurelyn had allowed her to see the convergence of two different times, a piece of history layered over the fabric of her current life. In a rush she knew that she had made a great blunder, that she had mistaken the gray world for her own; there were no boys, no matter how perfectly she could recall their faces or feel the pressure of fingers on her own.

The awareness of what she had done, how she had greeted her King and the intimate way she was pressed into him even know made her skin nearly crawl with the heat of her blush, and she scurried as far away from him as she could manage as quickly as she could. The two faces of the King that she could still see seemed to mirror each other's look of sadness, but she ignored them both.

"Lynx," she said hoarsely, trying to cover her blunder, "And Yates. And … and Lhean, he was with me … Ealdean … Telagioth …"

She saw again the Sleepers as they converged on her friends and companions, saw Mornhavon reaching toward her and suddenly she felt nearly hysterical. She had to be in the castle, but how in the Five Hells had she gotten there? Why was she seeing two of Zachary, and not of Fastion? The enormity and confusion of it all was enough to make her hyperventilate.

"Breathe, Karigan," Zachary said calmly. "Weapon Quinn found you in the tombs and sent for Fastion. No one knows how you got down there, or how long you were there before you found, but you are in the Mending wing and you are safe."

His tone was all warmth and reassurance, but the hysterics had already taken hold. He had not answered her questions about her companions – had they been left to die? Why had she been delivered to safety if the rest of them had been left in that nightmare?

The room was suddenly too small and too hot, the air in her lungs feeling as though it might burn its way through her chest. She threw the blanket off her and practically vaulted from the bed in her panic, senseless to the state of her dress, and bolted from the room before a stunned Zachary could even glance at his Weapon.

The Rider catapulted from the room only to feel a strong hand wrap her bicep as she tried to flee. The panic bubbled into a scream as she flung herself around to face her attacker; she had already landed a ferocious punch before recognizing the man to be Donal. His hand released her arm out of reflex and she was too terrified to register Zachary's voice demanding that she not be touched. Her legs felt weak, and the one that had been stuck with poisonous thorns protested as though it were broken.

The screaming had given way to sobs, but she seemed not to notice. She needed to get out, but she knew that if she attempted even one step more her legs would fail her.

"Karigan?"

She brought her gaze up and took in the sight of a very real Estora standing just a few feet in front of her, resplendent in a summery blue dress that amplified her beauty in a way that Karigan found absolutely horrifying. Her double vision flared, and she very clearly saw two Estora's: the one standing perfectly still in front of her, and the one charging her with a hunting knife.

"NO!"

The word tore from the depths of her gut, half plea and half helpless rage; she tried to back away and her weak body lurched, but it threw her forward instead of back and everything in her being screamed that she didn't want to die.

In an almost coordinated movement, three bodies lunged for the collapsing woman: Zachary was the closest, but Donal heaved himself with great force away from the wall; both men were a breath slower than the ever efficient Fastion, who came in second to a man that no one had known was there seconds ago: Lynx.

The other Rider crashed to his knees in his effort to catch her, both long arms shooting out to brace Karigan's weakened body. The momentum of her fall, though slowed by his arms, would have carried her to the floor anyway if Lynx had not pulled her quickly to him, rocking him off his knees and onto his butt. He landed hard, the stone floor jarring his bones, but Karigan was clutched safely against his chest.

"Lynx!" Karigan sobbed, staring into the face of his that was clearer, "I don't want to die. She wants me dead, why does everyone want me dead?"

"No one here is trying to kill you, Karigan," Lynx' voice answered from above her. "You are home, where you are safe."

"I am never safe," she whispered brokenly, one hand clutching at the material of her nightgown. "Someone is always after me."

"We are not after you, Rider," Fastion said gently. "We want to protect you."

"Rider Lynx, if you would please carry Rider G'ladheon back to her room," Zachary interrupted, "We can continue this conversation with much less unwanted attention."

Karigan's frightened screams had brought people from all over the corridor and surrounding rooms, all of who had coalesced some feet away into a circle of worried and somewhat suspicious faces. Karigan was feverish and panicked, and though he would never fault her for anything that she may say in such a state, the last thing the King needed was public suspicion that someone was out to kill his most prolific Rider.

Lynx did not relinquish Karigan as he gathered his feet beneath him and pushed himself into a standing position. He followed the King and Fastion into the room, Donal once more posting himself outside the door and closing it as soon as Queen Estora had followed them into the room. Lynx placed his fellow Rider gently on the bed and pulled the blanket up around her, but as the room was small and rather cramped with four guests, he did not move far from the head of her bed.

Karigan was coming back to herself, a deep sense of shame making her blush at the thought of what she could only call a breakdown. At the same time, belief in her fellow Riders' words of being safe, and Fastion's assurance that they only wanted to protect her, the fear would not be entirely dispelled.

"I … I don't know what happened," she started haltingly. "I don't know how I got here … I think I was dreaming, and when I woke up … there are two of you. Well, not you." The last she directed at Fastion, who was standing quietly near the foot of the bed.

"There are two of who?" Estora asked softly.

Karigan glanced only fleetingly at the woman who had once been a friend, who had sent an assassin into Blackveil with her to kill her if something else did not get to her first, but looked away quickly. When she answered, she fixed her gaze on the hand of hers that she knew had been cut.

"Everyone except Fastion. I don't know how to explain it, really … when Laurelyn came to me, the same thing happened … I mean, I think it was the same … she showed me past events, but that … I saw that piece of time layered over my own current one, like … double vision, I guess," she trailed off, worried that she really was going crazy.

"When you say there are two of us," Zachary started, his tone not at all disbelieving, "Can you explain more of what you mean? Do you see me as I am now, or as I was, say, as a child?"

"No, I see you, but there's another version of you; a little older, perhaps, it's hard to say. The other you seems …" She tried not to blush again, but managed to stop herself before saying 'more intimate', which had been the first words to come to mind. "The other you seems less distant – less distressed, or worried perhaps."

"And how do you know which me is the right one?" he queried.

To all present (except maybe Fastion), Zachary's question was a logical and relevant one, but Karigan thought she knew an ulterior motive in his asking it. The feel of his lips against hers was not one she would soon forget, although she knew she would certainly do her best to do exactly that.

"Um … I don't, at first."

"At first?" Lynx prodded. "You do not seem confused about me."

"Because … you're not really that different, I guess. The other you is … well, happier for lack of a better word. It's almost like a puzzle – I have to take what I knew of you before and compare it to the two versions of you that I see now," she explained.

"And what about the Queen?" Lynx continued, motioning slightly to Estora.

Whatever way he had intended for Karigan to find out about his marriage, this was not it; the horror Zachary felt at the casual way it fell out of the other Rider's mouth was, for the barest moment, reflected on Karigan's face. He wanted to explain everything to her right then, wanted to plant himself on the edge of her bed again and make her listen to what he had to say … he saw that pain she so quickly erased as plainly as if it were a picture engraved on his heart. Her pain doubled his, especially when he thought of the letter he had taken from her room so that he could reread her declaration of love for him at his leisure.

He could do nothing, however, except let the question stand and will her to look at him.

"When I saw her … one of her was standing still, and the other was aiming a knife at my throat."

"I would never hurt you, Karigan," Estora nearly whispered, the first she had spoken in long moments. "Surely you must know that?"

No one said anything while Karigan seemed to gather either her thoughts or her courage – or, perhaps, both.

"What I know," Karigan answered, looking directly at the woman who was now her Queen, "is that you sent an assassin into Blackveil, to make sure that I never came out."

"I would never do that!" Estora exclaimed, the first time her voice had conveyed anything like desperation. "You're my friend, Karigan, no matter what you say about commoners and nobles!"

"You gave Ard your blessing! He made that perfectly clear before he tried to take my life, a life that I have had to fight dearly for at every turn!"

"When I gave Ard my blessing, I had no idea that he had been ordered to kill you! You have to believe me, Karigan; I had no part in that plan. I have never wished you harm – why in the Five Hells would I wish you dead?"

"Because you hate me!" Karigan burst, her entire body shaking as she tried to focus on the version of Estora that was not sneering and pointing a knife at her. "You hate me because he loves me!"

Karigan wanted to physically reach out, snatch her words from the air and shove them forcefully back down her throat. Never in her life had she regretted any words more than she did the ones she had just uttered, but the damage was done. Moments ago she had been begging Lynx to let her live, and now she thought she would have been very happy to simply lie down and die.

Searing pain ripped through the leg that had caught the shard of mirror mask and lanced up her torso and across her back. She tried to scream but her lungs were being crushed, and her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head with the pain. She heard nothing, she saw nothing, and the fleeting thought came to her that perhaps she had gotten her wish and was being struck dead. A small and hysterical part of her wanted to laugh at the thought that, for once in her life, something or someone had finally discovered perfect timing.

The pain receded enough for her to draw several ragged breaths, and her vision cleared just enough to make out, astoundingly, the D'Yer wall. Only, this was not the Wall that Karigan remembered; in fact, it wasn't much of a wall at all. Long sections of it had fallen away, and she watched in grim fascination as the creatures of Blackveil swarmed over the rubble in their haste to be free.

She knew then that they were all doomed, for Mornhavon had unleashed the horror of Blackveil upon them.

* * *

Donal had been on watch all day, but that did not stop him from volunteering to stay with a now sleeping Karigan. Fastion, however, would not hear of it and very nearly demanded that he be allowed to take his turn watching the Rider. Zachary had sided with Fastion, reminding Donal that even Weapons needed rest, and the other man had finally given a graceful bow and disappeared down the hallway.

Ben had assured and reassured them at least half a dozen times that Karigan had suffered no physical wounds and that there was no visible cause for her fit before Lynx, Zachary and Estora could be persuaded to leave her room. When he had finally succeeded in that task, he had started (very timidly) in on impressing upon them all the need for Karigan to rest, and that nothing remotely exciting should occur anywhere near her; her body, he told them, was quite simply at the limit of what it could take, and that said nothing for her mental and emotional faculties. Ben had delivered his scolding so softly and smoothly that Estora wondered if she was the only one who recognized it as such.

Now, as she kept pace with Zachary and Lynx as they made their way out of the Mending wing, Willis behind them, she explained how Lynx had very persuasively asked to be allowed to visit Karigan, and how she had offered to escort him to her room personally. Zachary informed her that his first thought had been that she was bringing him bad tidings, but had been unable to account for Rider Lynx' presence. Perhaps it was the remnants of her argument with her Karigan, but she nearly stopped him and demanded to know why he thought she would not come to simply visit her friend; only her well-honed restraint kept her from doing so.

Instead, Estora very politely excused herself and disappeared into her rooms so that she could vomit in private.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note: Hi everyone! Finally back with another update. I want to thank everyone for the continued interest in this story and all the alerts/favorites/reviews - you guys are awesome, and really make my day! I should be able to update this a lot more often now, and we're starting to get into some really good parts. As always, let me know what you guys think!**_

* * *

Laren ignored the desire to shift uncomfortably. Today's audiences felt as if they'd been dragging on for the better half of the day, and she hadn't stopped long enough this morning to have breakfast. She'd arrived just in time to report to Zachary and be asked to stand in for the morning's meetings; the fear and concern that had driven her to travel so quickly from Corsa had to be pushed aside until she was free to find out more.

Connly's letter – detailing Karigan's discovery and subsequent condition, as well as the loss of her other riders – had worked her into frenzy. She had dreaded just such information from the moment she sent her riders off on the expedition, and once she had received it there was nothing for her to do but rush back to the castle. And rushed she had, for all the good it had done her.

Her frustration with the delay was enough to make her clench her jaw; seconds later, she felt like screaming. The wild jump in her emotions set off a warning bell – she took a breath and refocused her thoughts. When the feeling subsided she cast her gaze around the room: several of the people waiting in line looked tense, but no more so than an older gentleman about half way back who looked as if he was ready to burst.

That was the other thing weighing heavily on Laren's mind: she had begun to notice a few days ago that her ability seemed to be changing. Perhaps changing wasn't the best word; growing seemed more fitting. The few towns that she had stopped in on her ride back to the city had been full of people scrambling to report strange happenings in the land. At first Laren had thought that these reports were merely coincidences, but their growing frequency and audacity had since started to give the Captain another idea: rogue magic was somehow on the loose.

These reports, along with the sudden and inexplicable amplification of her ability, left Laren with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

Surprised voices, a few of which were raised in alarm, traveled over the noise of the audience chamber and drew Laren's attention to the other end of the room. The line of people waiting to be heard began to shift as the people at the back of the line began to shift away from the double doors, and just in time: the big doors swung wide open, but at first all the Captain could make out was a mass of bodies moving up the room. Weapons had coalesced out of darkness and surrounded the King, but her attention was drawn to the knot of people now moving toward them: lithe bodies clothed in sheer fabrics and gleaming armor, poised and silent.

Eletians.

Her surprise was mirrored and engorged by that of the general public around her, and Laren had to throw up her barriers again before the swell of emotion became too much.

Zachary seemed to realize who was in his audience hall as quickly as she did, for he stood and motioned for silence. The Weapons did not loosen the ring they had made around their King, but the few in front stepped down a step to allow him to be seen.

"Greetings, King Zachary." The Eletian in the front had spoken, and the pleasant tones of his voice seemed to subdue the crowd. "Pardon our intrusion."

"Prince Jametari – what a pleasant surprise." Zachary's voice was perfectly even and inviting, but Laren could feel the undercurrent of tension there.

Laren's tension mirrored that of her King's: what could have brought the Eletians to their doorstep, unannounced much less?

"We have come on important business that cannot wait," Jametari informed them, his eyes never leaving Zachary.

Laren's hackles raised immediately. The Eletians did not hurry; they were not rash. Whatever had driven them to their doorstep, into a crowded audience room to politely demand Zachary's attention, surely must be of a great importance. The problem, she knew, was that there was no way Zachary could grant such a request; if he did, then his people and counselors would accuse him of pandering to the Eletians at the expense of his kingdom. If he did not, he risked seriously offending a race of people that they simply could not afford to offend.

"I appreciate the urgency that has brought you here, Prince Jametari, and would be happy to discuss whatever information you would like at length; now, however, I am indisposed. My people must come first, as I'm sure you understand. I will be happy to have the Captain of my Green Riders see you to my personal study while you wait, of course."

Laren wanted to applaud Zachary for such a tactful response, but kept her eyes focused on the Eletian party instead. Surely if the information they brought was as important as they claimed, then they suffer the wait to deliver it, wouldn't they?

"I understand," the Eletian prince answered finally. "We shall wait in your study."

"Excellent. Captain Mapstone, if you would please escort our guests, I'll see that refreshments are brought straight away."

Laren bowed dutifully, thankful for the excuse to finally move again. Her day had just become infinitely more interesting.

* * *

Zachary did not make them wait long.

He positively swept into his study, Estora a few steps behind him and flanked by a Weapon. Prince Jametari was seated in the plush chair in front of his desk, his honor guard standing motionless behind him. Laren was leaning ever so slightly against the edge of his desk – or, she had been a moment ago. She had righted herself upon his entrance, but a quick nod from him told her silently to relax once more. He moved to his chair but, instead of seating himself, motioned for Estora to take the seat he had pulled out for her. He had noticed that she was looking tired today, and he was too worked up to sit.

"Forgive the delay," he started as soon as his Queen was seated. "You have my undivided attention."

"Thank you. First, I am afraid that I must make a request."

Zachary arched one eyebrow in silent curiosity.

"We would like to request the presence of the Galadheon before we continue."

Surprised, and not a little perturbed, Zachary glanced away from the Eletian prince and to his Captain. She also looked more than a little surprised at the request, but before either of them could make a reply, the prince spoke once again.

"I have been informed that she was returned you – that is correct, I hope?"

"Yes," Zachary acquiesced. "Although I cannot stress enough the toll that was exacted upon her."

"Does her health render her unable to join us?"

"Rider G'ladheon has not been out of our mending wing long; the choice of whether or not she is well enough to join us will be left to her."

"Of course."

Zachary rang for a runner, who happened to be a sandy haired boy of the Green Foot he had been seeing a lot lately. He sent the boy after Karigan, painfully curious as to what the reason was behind the request. He recognized two of the Eletians standing behind their prince as members of the expedition into Blackveil, although he couldn't remember their names; the third Eletian was not familiar to him.

"I was sorry to hear of the loss of your brave people in Blackveil," Zachary told them kindly.

"Thank you." Jametari was not the one who answered, however; the stern faced one with spines on the shoulders of his armor had spoken. "We are also saddened by your loss. Your warriors showed great spirit."

"Thank you."

A knock sounded against the study door and Zachary's stomach dropped. He tried to ignore it, but the feeling was almost overwhelming. He had not seen Karigan in some days, since what he had silently taken to calling "The Incident". Was she on the other side of the door? Was she okay?

"Enter."

* * *

Karigan came to a halt beside the excited Green Foot runner in front of the study door, but quickly put out a hand to stop him before he could knock.

"Could you just … wait a minute?" she asked softly. "I'd like to catch my breath."

That wasn't a total lie. The young boy had set quite a blistering pace here from the Rider wing, and her leg simply would not sustain it. The glass had thankfully missed all the major veins and arteries, but it had done plenty of damage; healing was progressing slowly, and rushing about the castle was not going to help.

Not that she did much rushing these days. She had only been released from the Mending wing that week, and only with strict promises from Mara and her fellow riders that they would keep a close eye on her. The fever had broken but left her weak, and her appetite had not fully returned yet; the cut on her hand was healing well, and whatever aches and pains she had usually paled in comparison to the pain in her leg. All of which, of course, was not nearly as problematic to her as her vision was; her vision, which had insisted on retaining that irritating art of seeing two layers of everything. She had hoped that it was an effect of the fever and would wear off, but it showed no signs of doing any such thing. She was learning to live with it – and the daily headaches that accompanied it – but she was not learning to like it.

All of these things combined told her that perhaps she was not feeling up to an audience with the King in the best of circumstances. Having to remember the horrible way their last … meeting had ended made her want to scurry into a dark hole and hide, but she refused to let herself be a coward. At least, not any more of a coward than she already felt like, anyway.

"Who else is in there, Tomas?" she whispered to the boy next to her.

"The King, Queen Estora, Captain Mapstone, and some people I've never seen before," he answered with a conspiratorial wink. "Don't worry, I don't think you're in trouble."

That made her smile and she mussed the boy's hair fondly. She was doing her best to meet all the new members of the Green Foot and the Riders that had come in while she was away – it helped to take her mind off the friends she had lost.

"Alright then, better not keep them waiting. Go on."

Tomas stepped forward and knocked; Karigan passed an absent hand over Grae's feather, still tied into her hair, and tried to muster her strength.

"Enter."

Tomas gave her a bright grin and pushed the door open. Commanding her leg to cooperate, Karigan strode as smoothly as she could into the study.

She was shocked at the sight that greeted her.

Her eyes quickly found and catalogued the positions of Zachary, Estora and the Captain, but her breath hitched in her throat when they found the other occupants of the room. Prince Jametari would have been enough of a shock, but it was the Eletians standing behind him that really unsettled her: Telagioth, the spines on his armor as intimidating as ever, and Ealdean, his face momentarily devoid of any emotion, both stood facing her.

She could not keep her mind from recalling the last time she had seen them, amidst the fray in Argenthyne just before she smashed the Mirror mask at her feet …

"Welcome, Galadheon." Jametari's voice was warm, but she barely heard him.

Karigan tried to speak, but her throat felt thick. She took suddenly halting steps toward her friends – for surely they could be nothing else after such shared experiences – and felt betrayed by the single tear that escaped her eye.

"You're alive," she finally managed.

Telagioth moved first, coming quickly to her side in a rare show of emotion. He took her elbow and guided her over to where his counterparts stood, all three of who were smiling gently at her.

"We are, Galadheon," Ealdean said softly. "And glad to see that you are as well."

Karigan could not keep herself from reaching out to hug both Telagioth and Ealdean in turn, mildly surprised when they not only allowed such a show of emotion, but also returned it. When she finally pulled away and turned to the third Eletian, she felt as if she were trying to remember a dream she'd had many years ago; there was a feeling of familiarity, but an inability to recall why.

"You were wounded the last time we met, proud Galadheon," he told her with a quiet smile. "We Eletians were not much more than a song in a glade …"

"Somial?" she asked incredulously.

"You honor me with your memory."

She was so overjoyed to see such an unexpected face that she had to hug him as well, and was abashed to realize that she might have been lost in emotion if it wasn't for the sudden sound of someone clearing their throat. She turned – somewhat sheepishly – to find that the other members of the room were watching the rest of them with a range of expressions on their face.

Jametari had been the one to clear his throat, and Karigan did her best to straighten herself and bow as respectfully as her leg would allow.

To her great surprise, the Eletian prince inclined his head in response.

"You honor my sister." He motioned to the feather in her hair. "I am grateful. Now we may continue."

"Rider G'ladheon."

That voice made her pulse jump, but she ignored it and turned her attention to the King.

"Sire?"

"Please have a seat." He motioned to a chair that had been placed next to the desk, right next to where her Captain stood.

Karigan made her way to the chair and tried not to focus on how strange it felt to be asked to sit when her King and her Captain remained standing. She was one of only three people sitting in the room; what did it mean that the other two were a Prince and a Queen?

"We bring very important information," Prince Jametari started. "Magic is once again loose in the world. Not just any magic, however; a sickly, twisted magic that could only have come from one place."

"Blackveil," Karigan blurted, before she could stop herself.

"Correct," Jametari answered. "Our scouts have reported increased sightings of Groundmites, farther from the wall than before, as well as a particularly cruel imitation of a hummingbird."

Karigan closed her eyes, momentarily fighting off the memory of a hummingbird impaling someone with its beak. Such creatures would wreak havoc outside the wall.

"These creatures are not the only problem, although they are formidable one. We have also had reports of strange happenings in the land itself: rivers that have started to flow backward, animals suddenly turning to stone, freezing snows one day and scorching heat the next. Have you had no such reports?"

"I have received a few," Zachary answered. "Captain Mapstone?"

"I, too, received strange reports on my return to the city, mostly of animals behaving strangely or people suddenly having an ability they did not the night before."

"Have you, as magic users, noticed no difference?"

The Prince had directed this question to Karigan and Captain Mapstone; Karigan, unsure of how to answer – or whether to answer at all – glanced first at Zachary, and then at her Captain.

"I have noticed an … amplification of my ability," Mapstone admitted, looking for Zachary's approval before she said more. "It seems to have given me the power of empathy."

Jametari nodded, as if such information was just what he'd expected. Perhaps he had been expecting it – after all, what sort of changes were the Eletians noticing, being a people whose existence revolved so wholly around magic?

"Be watchful for any negative effects of such an ability, although I do not doubt the ability itself is enough of a problem."

"How so?" Zachary queried.

"We are not meant to know another's innermost emotions. Perhaps useful at times, I will admit, such an influx of emotion would be … tiring, at best. Imagine feeling the emotion of each person in this room, at every moment."

"It doesn't seem to have gotten that far … yet," Laren corrected. "I only notice when the emotion is particularly strong, or when I am caught off guard."

"I hope, for your sake, Captain, that it stays that way. And you, Galadheon?"

Karigan wondered if the Captain could feel how uncomfortable she was in that moment, or how desperately she wanted to ignore the Prince's question. How was she supposed to answer? Was her double vision an effect of her ability gone wild? Then again, how could it be? Her ability was to fade between realms – wouldn't an amplification of that be to render herself completely invisible?

Then it occurred to her that no one in the room outside of herself, Zachary and Estora even knew about the double vision. Well, Zachary knew, at least – Karigan couldn't remember if Estora knew or not. There were several days there that she hardly remembered at all, and what she did remember was cloudy and indistinct.

Well, Captain Mapstone was in for quite the surprise.

"You may answer, Rider G'ladheon," Zachary told her softly.

She tried not to shift uncomfortably. "I have … double vision, I guess you could call it."

"Explain please," Jametari prodded when she did not continue.

"I see two versions of everyone; the one that's present, and another."

Jametari's face betrayed no emotion, but he did something she had never seen an Eletian do; he steepled his fingers and brought them up to rest under his chin.

"You see this at all times?" he questioned.

"Yes."

"How do you make sense of it? How do you know to whom you speak?"

Karigan felt the blood rush into her face in a furious blush, but she did not look away from the Eletians. Oddly, it was only now that she was noticing that there were not two versions of each of them; rather, the air around them seemed to shimmer, as if heated.

"I don't always. I'm getting better though, at least with people I know. There are little differences; quirks, scars that I remember … things like that."

"That would explain the eyes."

The comment was spoken so softly she almost didn't catch it. Her attention snapped away from Jametari and to Somial, who was standing quietly behind his party and watching her.

"My eyes?" Karigan inquired. "Is something wrong with them?"

"Of course not – they're beautiful."

Her blush intensified. How could an Eletian – the most beautiful beings she had ever laid eyes upon, surely – find anything about her beautiful?

Next to her chair, the Captain shifted suddenly, and Karigan wondered if the other woman had felt the way Karigan's heart jumped at hearing any part of her called beautiful.

"What Somial means to say," Jametari began, "is that there is a marked difference in your countenance, Galadheon, one that we have not seen in a very long time. In Eletia, we call simply call it the Gift; one who has been bestowed with such ability appears to always have … what do you call it? Stars in their eyes? Only, with the Gift, the stars are literal: little flecks of light, like stars in a night sky."

"You speak very reverentially of such a Gift," Estora observed, the first time she'd spoke. Karigan had forgotten she was in the room at all.

"Yes. As I said, the Gift has not been seen in a long time; the last to have been known to wield it was Laurelyn herself."

A huge slab of concrete slamming into her chest would have felt similar to the sensation now spreading through Karigan's chest. Her double vision was a gift? A gift that Laurelyn, Queen and beloved of the Eletians, had experienced all those years ago? How … why had such a gift come to her? What did it mean?

And what in the Five Hells was she supposed to do with it?

"What does this Gift do?" Captain Mapstone asked in Karigan's silence.

"It allows the person to see between worlds."

"Like my brooch allows me to travel the Gray plain?"

"Not quite. That plane is more of an intermediary, a buffer between worlds. What you are seeing, Galadheon, are the worlds themselves. You see this world – the one that we currently occupy, in this time – and the world as it could be, or was."

"So Karigan can see through time?" Estora asked.

"Not necessarily. The Gift is not linear, which is part of why it's so hard to master. It is also not restricted to reality."

"What do you mean, not restricted to reality?" Karigan finally joined.

"Your two versions of Captain Mapstone, for instance: you may see her as she is now, but the other version you see could be a manifestation of what you equate her with. For example, you might see her as older, an opponent, even a mother."

"Why don't I see two of you? Any of you?" she motioned to the assembled Eletians.

"We do not experience time as you do. What do you see?"

"The air sort of … shimmers, around you. Like an image on the surface of water that hasn't settled; something's there, but I can't quite make it out."

Karigan watched in consternation as Jametari's face registered genuine surprise; behind his chair, Ealdean and Telagioth shared a fleeting look, and Somial's grin widened.

"What did I say?" she asked quickly.

"I am … amazed that you are able to see that much, Galadheon. Were you Eletian, the Gift would manifest itself differently. The fact that you are human means you should see nothing when you look at us; that you can register any difference around us, and even that your mind is trying to make sense of it, is curious."

"Do you believe, Prince Jametari, that Rider G'ladheon's ability is an effect of this wild magic?" The question came from Zachary, who had started to pace in the area behind his desk.

"It is possible; I cannot say without more information. The point is, we believe this magic is coming straight from Blackveil, and that it will only get worse. In light of what my people tell me of the expedition to Argenthyne, I believe this is a deliberate move by Mornhavon."

"Mornhavon?" Karigan repeated darkly.

"Yes. I believe you may have trapped him, but he is not gone. I believe he is trying to bring chaos to our lands, to unsettle us and pave the way for his return."

"This is important information, indeed, but I wonder that you have brought it to us yourself, Prince Jametari."

"Your perceptiveness is a credit to you, King Zachary. Mornhavon is a threat to us all, and one I do not believe either of us can defeat on our own. Despite the high price exacted upon both of our people's, the expedition into Blackveil has assured me that our people can work effectively together. I am here to propose a joint effort – an alliance, if you will."

"Well, you have certainly given us a lot to think about and discuss. Am I correct in assuming that you will remain close while a decision is being made?"

"Yes."

"Then, although I know how you feel about staying in the castle, please allow me to extend the use of our extensive grounds for your party, and any others who have accompanied you."

"Thank you. As our party is small, we will gladly accept your offer."

The meeting clearly at a close, Zachary dismissed them all. Karigan rose stiffly to her feet, trying to mask a grimace as the damaged muscles in her leg pulled with the effort. Captain Mapstone placed a firm hand behind her elbow for support and she muttered a thank you, hating that it was necessary.

"May I escort you out?"

The voice that addressed her was warm and musical, and she was smiling before she even realized who was speaking. Somial stood before her, one hand extended toward her and impossibly blue eyes twinkling in a way that made her think of laughter.

"Oh, I don't want to …"

"… Be a burden?" he finished for her, and she blushed again. "The burden would be in going another minute without your presence at my side."

Karigan laughed; she couldn't help it. His response was delivered so smoothly, and with such an air of honest happiness, that she couldn't resist.

"I'm not going far," she informed him, even as she grasped his warm hand and allowed him to take hold of her elbow as they moved toward the door.

"Then perhaps I will get lost," Somial answered, and actually winked at her.

Karigan did not notice the scathing look Zachary shot at their backs as they exited, or the way Laren balled her hand into a fist to combat a sudden wave of jealousy.


End file.
